


paradigm shift

by words_unravel



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, F/M, Infidelity, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Open Relationships, Sharing a Room, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-19 19:02:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2399387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/words_unravel/pseuds/words_unravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The first time it happens it's an accident, Harry completely forgets that he's rooming with Zayn. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	paradigm shift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rilla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rilla/gifts).



> Written for the prompt: 
> 
>  
> 
> _My favourite Zarry rumour is that whole thing where they shared rooms and hooked up with girls on separate beds at the same time? So, something based on that would be amazing. The way the girls slowly get discarded until it's just the two of them? The awkwardness it creates? Something focusing on the weird way their relationship has evolved. If Harry's Veronica fascination comes into it I would not be displeased._
> 
>  
> 
> Massive thanks to both my betas (to be named once authors are revealed) and to the mod for hosting this exchange (and being infinitely patient with me)!

* * *

The first time it happens it's an accident, Harry completely forgets that he's rooming with Zayn. 

 

It's not entirely his fault though, there's a hand tugging at the buckle of his belt even before he's got the door open. Harry's young and she's really, _really_ hot. There's concessions to be made, he argues later. 

They're through the door, her mouth on his while she continues her quest to get his trousers off as quickly as possible. Not that Harry's complaining about that either. It feels like he's been hard for _years_. Ever since Tara--and it takes Harry a second to remember that's her name, distracted by the way she's currently ghosting her fingers over his cock--slid up next to him at the bar and smiled. She'd ordered two Jack and Cokes and no one had blinked twice when Harry accepted the glass she handed him. 

He's managed to at least get both their shirts off and kick off his shoes by the time she's got his trousers down. The back of his knees hit the bed and he wobbles for a moment. Her hands grab at his hips, digging into the bit of softness he's still got around that area. He'd be more self-conscious about it, but she seems to like it, thumbs pressing in hard enough that Harry can't help the sound that falls out of his mouth. 

He curves a hand around her neck, fingers sliding into her hair. It's soft, brushes like silk over his hand as he pulls her in for a kiss. It's teeth and tongues; Harry wants her to be as on edge as he feels. 

It seems to work, a second later she's pushing him down on the bed, pressing into him for a single moment before she slides down his body. Harry can't help the way his hips jerk, his brain finally catching up. And it's definitely not the first blowjob he's ever received, but he's been on edge _forever_ and Tara's mouth is hot and wet, her lips still stained bright red as Harry watches it slide down his cock. 

She does something with her tongue that has his eyes crossing and suddenly he's too close, too soon. Dragging his gaze away, Harry finds himself glancing at the other bed. 

Zayn's face is visible in the low light of the room, half-smushed into his pillow. 

" _Fuck_."

There must be something in his voice because Tara pulls off, far enough to make an inquisitive noise. She keeps a hand around him though, tight enough that it takes Harry a second to respond. 

"My bandmate-- I forgot we were sharing the room." That makes her look over, eyebrows raising up. She giggles and Harry waves a hand, "Shhh, shhh, he's still aslee-- _fuck!_ " 

She pulls off again, licks the tip of his prick like an ice lolly and murmurs, "Guess you'll need to be quiet then, yeah?"

And Harry can do that, he can. Except she's deep-throating him then, her finger stroking the skin behind his balls before dipping further to brush across his hole. It's amazing that Harry can even remember his own name at the moment, it feels so good. 

He's vaguely aware of her sliding two fingers into her mouth, then dragging them across his arsehole again, and he knows he's making noises, being too loud. A glance over at Zayn shows that the other lad hasn't moved, eyelashes creating shadows as he lays there. 

She rubs her fingers over him again, drawing his attention back. "What are you doing?" Harry can't help whispering.

"Trust me," Tara whispers back, adding, "you'll love it," before pressing one finger in.

And, well, she's not wrong. 

It feels a bit weird, Harry notes, but his cock is hitting the back of her throat and it's a wonderful, wonderful pressure. She's got a second finger in a moment later, sliding them in and out slow enough that Harry's certain the drag on his rim is going to kill him. He's about to whine, to beg really, when her fingers ghost over a spot inside him that makes things go gold behind his eyelids. Harry bites down on the heel of his hand, tries to muffle the noises that can't seem to stop spilling out of his mouth. 

Zayn continues to sleep in the next bed. 

When he finally comes, it's so hard that Harry's certain he's gone and passed out. Tara crawls back up his body then, kissing him. He can taste himself on her tongue, kisses her harder. 

When they break apart, she murmurs, "Told you you'd like it, love," and all Harry can do is smile sloppily at her, drunk on the endorphins still floating under his skin. 

"He's a pretty heavy sleeper," she says quietly in his ear, gaze looking across to the other bed. Harry glances over and it's true, Zayn's still fast asleep. When he looks back over, she grins wickedly. "Shall we see if you're good enough to wake him?"

Harry frowns, confused. It's clear a moment later, when she rolls to the side and threads her fingers into his hair, pushing him down. With a wide grin, Harry goes.

 

It's just after Harry's shown her out, a wicked kiss and a soft smile in parting, and slid back into bed that he's startled by Zayn's voice, rough with possibly more than just sleep, "You're a massive arsehole, Harry."

~*~

The second time is still mostly an accident.

 

Harry's lost track of Zayn. 

The club is hot and crowded, the music so loud that conversation is almost impossible. Not that Harry needs to talk, not really. He'd seen Zayn earlier in the evening, leaning in close to a girl at the bar and it hadn't taken Harry long at all to find his own interested party. 

He's pleasantly buzzed now, turned up enough that he wants to leave. Wants her body under his, mouth on her skin. Wants to hear what she sounds like without the pounding of the music surrounding them. Harry shoots Zayn a quick text in the car as they head back to the hotel, but doesn't get a response. 

At least not until they've slid through the doorway of the hotel room, mouths on each other, and Zayn lets out an exasperated, " _Harry_."

Breaking apart, Harry looks up to find Zayn flat on his back with the pretty redhead from earlier sat on his lap. He's frowning, but Harry can't help grinning. 

"Oops." Then, "I did text you."

The girl in Harry's arms--Sydney--giggles at that, hiding her face in his neck. Zayn just frowns harder. Harry glances at Zayn's girl, pale skin currently flushed from embarrassment. She's pretty, gorgeous really, and Harry knows the appreciation is showing on his face as he stares. 

She blushes again, heated, and Zayn mutters, "Keep it down this time," before sliding a hand around the girl's neck and into her hair, pulling her down into a kiss. It's a blatant show of possession that makes Harry want to roll his eyes. Instead he just watches, thinks how far Zayn's come from the X-Factor house as the girl melts into the kiss.

There's a nip of teeth at his neck that drags Harry's attention away. 

He's got his own business that needs attending.

~*~

The next few times are not quite so accidental. 

 

The thing is, it's hot. The sounds. 

Harry loves the noises a girl makes when he's touching her, going down on her. So listening to Zayn get a girl off is really, _really_ hot to Harry. Mind-blowingly hot, in fact. It would be rude to watch, both to the girl Harry's with and to Zayn and his girl, but hearing the sounds Zayn drags out his partner are enough really. 

He's curious, every so often, what it would take to get those same sounds out of Zayn. Because Zayn's quiet, even during sex. But Harry doesn't watch. 

 

Except one time--

He's on his knees, fumbling with the condom packet, when he glances over. 

The girl Zayn brought back to the room has hair as dark as Zayn's, a midnight-colored waterfall against the paleness of Zayn's skin. She's bobbing up and down on his cock and Zayn looks like he's in heaven--eyes shut, cheeks flushed, mouth bitten red. He's got one hand braced on the headboard, the other curled in that dark hair that's spilling around his hips. Zayn's eyes snap open and they're pleasure-blind for a moment. Then they focus on Harry, sharpening. As Harry watches, Zayn comes, hips jerking off the bed and the girl takes it. Zayn's eyes roll up and for a split second Harry's jealous. 

Jealous that it's not him making Zayn feel that way. 

There's a soft voice, a softer hand on his wrist that draws his attention back to his own bed, to the lovely girl waiting on him. He looks down and for a split second, it's someone else laying there. 

Harry fucks the girl underneath him until she comes twice, until she can barely walk, and he isn't thinking about things he shouldn't. He doesn't look over at the other bed again and Zayn doesn't say a word. 

 

When they fall asleep, after the girls have gone, it's with their backs to each other, separated by more than the space between their beds. 

~*~

They only pull a girl together once. 

 

There's a moment, Harry looks up and Zayn is nearer than he's expecting, curled forward as the girl sucks him off between them. Her mouth pulls a quiet moan from Zayn's throat and he's close, Harry knows, well familiar with the sound by now. Zayn's tongue flicks out--he licks his lips _constantly_ \--and it's like a physical blow, the sudden urge Harry has to lean forward and press his own mouth there. 

He doesn't, of course. Just closes his own eyes instead, digs his fingers into the girl's hips and comes hard enough to forget he ever had that thought at all.

~*~

One tour rolls into another, their lives constantly changing as the days go by. 

Zayn gets Perrie and private rooms. Harry gets whomever he wants and the feeling that something's missing. 

 

The bartender had been young and blonde and flirty, more than willing to hand over whatever drink Harry'd asked for that evening. Which means that Harry's pissed by the time he reaches Zayn's hotel room. The pattern he's rapping with his knuckles sounds obnoxious, even to his drunk ears. Still, Perrie just grins at him when she swings open the door, hollering over her shoulder for Zayn. 

There's a softness in Zayn's eyes when he catches sight of Harry, laughing as he slides an arm around Harry's waist and tugs him down the hall towards the lift. Harry's curled into him even before the doors close, arms wrapping around Zayn's waist. It's quiet as the lift rises, nothing but the hum of the machinery and their breathing. 

Harry refuses to let go when the doors open and Zayn huffs out a disgruntled laugh as they stumble down the hallway. "Wanker," he murmurs quietly. Harry just hums and digs out his key card when Zayn asks for it. 

"In you go," Zayn says, swinging the door open. Harry doesn't move, just watches him from where he's leaned up against the wall. 

"S'not the same, you know," Harry finally says. "Not as good without you there." 

It takes Zayn a second to figure it out. Although it's easy to tell when he does, chin dipping down to his chest and a blush heating the top of his cheeks. 

"Not sure Pez'd be up for that, Harry," he laughs quietly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. The fact that he's making it a joke, trying to laugh it off makes Harry's stomach tighten. Makes him a little angry. 

Something must show on his face because Zayn's reaching out then, voice soft, "Harry--"

"Forget it," Harry mumbles, pushing Zayn's hand away. He stumbles through the door of his room, needing to put some kind of barrier between him and Zayn before his mouth gets ahead of his brain again. He's drunk; he's not sure what the hell he's saying. 

"Tell Perrie I'm sorry for interrupting," he says instead, over Zayn saying his name again. S'not fair to Perrie; Harry's been rude and his mother taught him better than that. Perrie's a lovely girl and it's not her fault Harry's brain is a mess right now. 

He barely glances up, only gets a quick glimpse of Zayn's face, his eyes wide and confused before he has to look away again. "Sorry, sorry," he murmurs. "Gonna sleep this off, okay?" 

Without waiting for an response, he closes the door in Zayn's face. 

~*~

The fans and the tabloids have a field day when the pics of Zayn, so soft and fast asleep in a bed that is definitely not Perrie's, leak. 

Harry watches as Zayn wanders like a ghost, always on his phone, always whispering and pleading, begging. It hurts Harry too, that he can only watch as his friend struggles. Still, there's the tiniest sliver of selfishness that he tries not to think about, a bit of happiness that maybe Zayn will be single again. That things will go back to the way the were before. It's only a tiny feeling, nothing really. 

Still, it's big enough for bad decisions. 

 

The girl's left, clearly uneasy at the tension in the room, stumbling out with stuttered apologies and wide eyes. Neither Harry nor Zayn pay any attention to her. 

There's a well of silence after the slam of the door. 

Then Zayn breaks it, throwing up his hands and sending Harry a dark look, asking, "What the fuck were you thinking, bringing her back here?"

The thing is, Harry's not quite sure, so he keeps quiet. 

"Why would you do this?" Zayn demands again, taking a couple steps forward. "You _know_ I'm trying to make things right with Pez."

And maybe Harry _does_ know why he's doing this. 

He holds himself still, makes himself meet Zayn's eyes. Something must show on his face anyway because Zayn tilts his head, eyes narrowing as he stares at Harry. 

Everything from that moment is a blur. Somehow his back is against the wall and even though they're not touching, it still feels like Zayn's surrounding him. He's not even thought about it, but suddenly he's on his knees, hands dragging down the jogging pants Zayn'd tugged on earlier when Harry stumbled through the door with the girl. 

Zayn makes a noise, surprised, and catches himself with a palm pressed flat against the door. "Harry--"

And he's not done this before, but he's watched. Watched so many times and now it's his hair Zayn's got fingers threaded through, tugging when Harry goes too far. It's wet and sloppy and Harry can't help looking up, watching as Zayn digs teeth into his bottom lip. Trying to keep the sounds from slipping out. 

That's not what Harry wants; he wants to hear Zayn, wants to know Zayn can't help it. Can't stop it. 

Then he remembers that first girl, the one who stuck her fingers up his bum. He brushes his own against Zayn's hole. Zayn tenses up, fingers tightening painfully in Harry's hair. Harry does it again, not pressing in, just enough pressure that the possibility is there. Zayn's hips jerk and then he's coming down Harry's throat with a moan. It catches Harry by surprise and he pulls back, coughing, come spilling over his bottom lip. 

Zayn sinks to his knees a second later, and stares as Harry wipes a hand over his chin.

"What the hell was that?" he finally asks. His voice catches, ragged, and a surge of pride rushes through Harry. 

His own voice is rough when he says, "The blowie or the fingers in your arse?" 

"Shut up, Harry," Zayn mutters, then pushes him back and starts tugging at his trousers. Harry can barely breathe, his heart thundering in his chest as Zayn shoves a hand in his face, telling him to lick. He wanks Harry off, wrapping his fingers around Harry's cock, jerking him hard and fast until Harry comes over his stomach with a shout. 

They stare at each other for a long time, both breathing hard, before Zayn finally sighs, standing. He walks into the bathroom and Harry can hear the water running briefly before it's shut off. When he returns it's with a warm flannel that he throws at Harry. 

By the time Harry's cleaned up, Zayn's sprawled out on his bed, an arm thrown over his eyes. He's stood there, not sure whether to stay or to leave when Zayn says quietly, "Come on then."

Harry crawls into Zayn's bed, curls around him. They don't speak, but Zayn ghosts his fingers down Harry's arm before settling a hand on his hip. 

~*~

They don't talk about it, but it happens again. Again and again. 

 

Zayn's seeing Perrie again. He tells Harry they have an agreement now, as long as she doesn't see it splashed everywhere and he doesn't get anyone pregnant, she's okay with it. 

It's not an issue though, not when Harry doesn't go out and pull. Not when Zayn's got Harry there, willing and eager to please. 

~*~

Harry waits for his cues, waits for Zayn to look at him _that_ way. For a touch to his elbow, a hand curled around the back of his neck. He finds he likes that, being led, likes making Zayn happy. 

They continue to not talk about what's happening, mouths and hands on each other. Zayn likes to make him wait, wait and wait and wait for release, until Harry wants to cry. But then when he does get to come, it feels so very, very good. Harry talks Zayn through fingering him one night and comes so hard, he's fairly certain he passes out. 

When he comes to, Zayn's watching him. The look on his face is a little wary, like he's not sure what just happened. But he comes almost as soon as Harry gets his mouth on him so Harry knows he liked it almost as much as Harry did. 

 

" _Fuck_."

Harry's on his hands and knees, teeth set into the pillow. Zayn's got three fingers in him, a slow drag in and out that has Harry nearly crying. 

"Zayn," he whines, pushing back. He wants more. _Needs_ it. Zayn ignores that, brushes a thumb over his rim instead and presses down on Harry's prostate, waiting. Waiting for him to beg, to plead for what he wants. Harry knows this, knows how it works now, but he's trying to hold on. 

He knows that for all Zayn wants him to beg, he loves to see how long Harry can wait. 

It's not too long, just a few more minutes before Harry gives in. "Zayn. Zayn, _please_."

"Please, what?" Zayn asks, the fingers of his other hand digging into Harry's hip. He pulls his fingers out and Harry bites his lip to stop the whine that threatens to spill out. Behind him, Zayn shifts, leaning over until he's pressed along the length of Harry's back. Harry can feel Zayn's prick, hard and wet against Harry's skin, and he pushes back again, unable to stop the noise that falls from his mouth. 

"Please, what?" Zayn asks again, voice quiet as his lips brushing against Harry's ear. "What do you want, Harry?" 

"Fuck me," Harry manages to gasp out. He shoves his face into the pillow, mumbling, "Fuckmefuckmefuckme."

 

When Zayn comes, he bites Harry's shoulder hard enough that it's bruised for ages. If Harry presses his fingers into it, just to feel the flair of pain, to remember, well. No one is none the wiser. 

~*~

Their schedule is crazy with the London premiere looming over them. Everything is turned up a notch, the excitement spilling over into every aspect of their lives. It makes Harry feel reckless, like he can do anything. Accomplish everything. 

 

It's this feeling that has him pushing Zayn down into the sheets of his bed the second Zayn's house is empty, kissing him hard, hands curved along Zayn's jaw to keep him in place while Harry sucks on his tongue, bites at his lips. 

"Wanna fuck you," he gasps out, once he's broken the kiss. He's already hard in his jeans, wants to touch Zayn everywhere. "Please."

That makes Zayn laugh, murmur, "So polite." 

Then maybe because he feels reckless too, he adds, "Yeah. Yeah, okay." 

For a second Harry's unsure, not expecting Zayn's to say yes. It doesn't last long though and he's kissing him again before urging him onto his stomach. 

Harry lets himself look for a moment, drags his gaze along the smooth line of Zayn's back. The ink of the tattooed bird low on his neck stands out, stark against the pale skin. Without thinking, Harry brushes over the feathers of the tail, trailing fingers down the line of Zayn's spine. 

That pulls a sound from him, along with an unconscious twitch of hips when Harry reaches the swell of Zayn's arse. It gives Harry an idea, something that pops into his head and won't leave. Bending down, he presses a soft kiss in the dip of Zayn's back, then another, lower. 

Zayn jerks, shifting to look over his shoulder. "Harr--"

Harry licks over his hole and Zayn's protest cuts off with a hissed breath. When Harry does it a second time, Zayn buries his face into the pillow, fingers curling into the material. He can't seem to stop himself from pressing back into Harry's mouth, so Harry digs his fingers into his arse, holding him still. 

The pillow muffles the small sound Zayn makes, and Harry doesn't want that. He wants to make Zayn moan, make him say Harry's name. Make him beg for once. 

It doesn't take long; Harry traces his tongue around Zayn's rim, presses in against the resistance, and Zayn lets out a low, ragged, " _Fuck_." 

It's a start. 

 

Harry's a wreck. He's not the only one, however. 

They're in a holding pattern, Harry buried deep inside Zayn, both still as they try to catch their breaths. He looks a bit stunned, laying there underneath Harry, flushed from the tops of his cheeks down to the lips tattooed on his chest. Sweat is matting his hair across his forehead, the same causing Harry's curls to stick to his face. 

Harry shifts, pulling out a little and pressing back in slowly. Zayn hisses, teeth digging into his bottom lip even as moves to bury his face in Harry's neck. Hiding. He's not so careful on the next thrust and Zayn's head falls back, neck arching as a moan falls from his mouth. 

He's not going to last long. Not with how hot and tight Zayn feels around him. With the way Zayn's thrusting his hips up as Harry fucks in, it's not going to take much for him either. 

Reaching down, he wraps his hand around Zayn's cock. It's hot under the skin of his palm, pre-come easing the slide of his fingers. 

Zayn's the one mumbling now, Harry's name over and over. He tangles a hand in the hair at the back of Harry's neck, the other curling over Harry's, wanking him faster, harder. 

It's overwhelming, the way he covers Zayn, surrounding him. Harry feels giant over him, watching as Zayn falls apart under his hands. 

_I love you_ , Harry thinks, looking down at Zayn, right before his own orgasm washes over him. 

 

Two days later, Zayn announces his engagement. 

~*~

Zayn pushes him away the next time, says he's engaged now. He's gonna commit and that means fully. Harry tilts his head, watching. 

"Okay," he finally says, nodding. 

"Okay," he repeats, and walks away. 

He can feel Zayn stare after him as he walks down the hallway to his own room. Sliding the room key into the lock, Harry watches the light flash green and turns the knob. Before he steps inside his room, he glances back down the hall. 

Zayn's stood there, watching him. His gaze is hooded in the low light of the hallway, but Harry can feel the weight of his stare even from where he's standing. And he knows then, knows that despite whatever story Zayn's telling himself, this thing that's between them isn't over. Isn't done just yet. Harry tilts his head, dips his chin in acknowledgement, then heads inside his room. 

He can wait; there's time.

**Author's Note:**

> NEXT TIME I AM WRITING THE FLUFFIEST FLUFF IMAGINABLE FOR THIS PAIRING. ;____; <3 <3


End file.
